


Disengagement

by Dellessa



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mech Preg, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He fell for the medic, Ratchet fell for the tentacles. The war has ended and nothing goes quiet as Ratchet imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disengagement

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Disengagement（中文翻译版）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503988) by [Gasterosteus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gasterosteus/pseuds/Gasterosteus)



**Title:** Disengagement  
or  
He fell for the medic, I fell for the tentacles.  
 **Author(s):** Dellessa  
 **Artist:** [Mific](786974)  
 **Verse:** Multi-Continuity AU (So very, very AU)  
 **Series:** None  
 **Rating:** M  
 **Warnings/Content:** Tentacle sex. Mechanical Pregnancy. Slash.  
 **Pairings/Characters:** Ratchet/Soundwave  
 **Notes:** Not mine!!  
 **Prompt:** Ratchet/Soundwave-Tentacles!!!  
 **Words:** 12,105

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/dellessa/media/Cats/290640_original.jpg.html)

The war was over. Ratchet kept telling himself that...but it didn’t quite feel real. He kept thinking that either mech would change their mind, but both had seemed quite firm about it. Granted, some things never changed. Megatron was still Megatron. A big pain in the aft in Ratchet’s optics, but he was hardly going to try to kill Optimus. Not when it would bring him right down with the Prime.

Peace was an uncomfortable fit for the medic. Even more so when he sat through Prime’s plans for integration. It was purely voluntary, but none of the officers present in the meeting would have

gone against Prime’s wishes. Not when an end to all of this was within reach. Ratchet shook himself mentally, freeing up a process tree and forcing himself to pay attention to what his Prime was saying.

“It would help the rank and file if the officers took a lead on this. I realize I am asking a lot of you, but it is nothing that I have not done myself,” Optimus said, looking around at those gathered around the table.

“Sure, Boss bot, yah know we are all more than willing to do our part to end this,” Jazz said, looking determined, “Even if it comes to---ah---this.”

“Precisely Prime. We will all do our parts in facilitating the peace.” Prowl nodded his agreement.

Ratchet watched them both and was hard pressed not to snort. He settled for rolling his optics. “How exactly are we going to go about this? Draw names out of a helmet?”

Prime ignored the way that Ironhide hid a chuckle behind his hand. “Ah was wondering that myself, Prime.”

The red and blue mech nodded gravely, “As I am sure all of you are. This is not a formal command. We believe that you should make an effort to get to know the other factions officers. We would not force anyone to bond.”

Ratchet vented again, knowing that they would let peer pressure do the work instead. He wasn’t keen on any of this. He had made it through the war without finding anyone, let alone even considering bonding. His optics flitted over to Red Alert, the bot was already twitching. Ratchet knew that look and would not be surprised if the bot glitched before the end of the cycle.

“All of us? Sir, are you really sure this is a good idea. It’s a clear breach in security. For all we know this is their plan. To infiltrate---”

“Ah think that’s already been accomplished,” Jazz snickered, only looking contrite at the look Optimus shot him. “Ahm sorry, OP,” Jazz laughed, not sounding very sorry in the least.

“Security protocols will be changed. Things must change. We must all adjust,” Optimus nodded to Red Alert, “And yes, I mean everyone. At least put forth an effort. In the name of peace.”

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Ratchet had not expected anything to change, not really, and certainly had not expected Soundwave, of all mechs, to be hovering in front of his doorway at the beginning of the next solar cycle. He rebooted his optics, thinking, perhaps he was seeing something, but no the mech was still there clearly waiting for him.

“Ratchet: time to talk?” the mech finally asked, startling him.

Ratchet couldn’t help but frown, “Now is as good a time as any,” he stepped back, letting the mech enter, hardly happy about having a Decepticon close, end of war or no end of war.

He sat down, watching Soundwave do the same. “Well?” he finally asked after the silence stretched out for nearly a breem. Ratchet tried not to squirm in his seat, annoyed that the ‘con was there to begin with, and worse that they seemed to be engaged in some sort of odd staring contest.

“Soundwave: requests permission to court Ratchet.”

The medic in question sputtered. “What?” he asked, overly loud.

“Soundwave---”

“Yeah, I heard you but why? Scrap, I’m sure there are a line of bots more appealing,” Ratchet said, still reeling. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or horrified. “I mean, Jazz for one. Or Prowl. Well, maybe not Prowl.”

“Negative: Ratchet possesses all qualities desired,” Soundwave said, making Ratchet scowl at him.

Ratchet vented thinking on Prime’s words for a moment. It would have been easy to turn the bot down simply on principle. But...as much as he hated the cons, he hated disappointing Optimus far more. And...he supposed as ‘cons went Soundwave was one of the better of the lot. Better than that loudmouth, Starscream in any case.

“And what qualities are you speaking of?” the medic narrowed his optics, daring the Hostmech to say something he did not like.

“Ratchet: caring, compassionate, hard worker.”

“You make it sound as though I am applying for a job,” Ratchet snorted, hardly impressed.

“Ratchet: visibly pleasing,” the Hostmech continued, a tentacle snaking out to caress Ratchet’s leg.

Ratchet let out a surprised yip, optics going wide for a moment. He opticed the tentacle, suspicious. “I see.” He brushed away the limb, and shivered. He was not entirely sure how he felt about that revelation. “You find me attractive.” 

“Affirmative.”

Ratchet vented, “Fine. You may...whatever. Fine you may court me.” It was far harder to get the words out that he thought it would be, and not for the first time in his existence he felt like kicking Optimus in the aft. As much as he loved and admired his leader THIS was his fault. “Provided...you follow a few rules. Rule one: no unwanted touching. You ask before you do anything you wouldn’t do to...well...Starscream. Don’t grope me. Rule two: No spying on me. That means no hijacking security cameras. No hacking into my station at work. Respect my privacy. Rule three: No tentacles. No groping me with said tentacles. Rule four: No spying by proxy. DO NOT send your recordicons to spy on me. Do not pick mech’s processors to find out what I’ve been doing,” his optics narrowed, “And I want to see what is behind that mask.” He had always been curious. The rumour mill varied widely from nothing, to the mech hiding horrible scars, to him being wickedly handsome. Ratchet rather thought none of those were the case. “Well.”

Soundwave leaned back. “Rules: agreeable,” he finally said after a pause, the mask and visor folded away revealing a rather unremarkable face. Not unhandsome, certainly, but not beautiful like Sunstreaker either. The optics though, that was interesting. Silver was not a common colour. At least for those outside of Caste Melodias. They had all been marked with it. Some like Blaster had chosen to change optics colour. Others like Jazz had not. It was surprising though, that Soundwave had kept his own.

  
[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/dellessa/media/Cats/291735_original.jpg.html)   


It told far more about the mech then he would hazard to guess that Soundwave was willing to give away. Insecurity shown across the face, making it apparent that the mask was more to shield the feeling that flashed across the face more than anything else. Ratchet almost felt bad for asking the mech to lay himself so bear. Almost. “Thank you,” he finally said after the silence stretched between them for far too long.

Soundwave shifted, “Ratchet: has any further questions?”

The medic tried not to squirm where he sat. This was not a conversation he ever imagined he would be having with Soundwave of all mechs. “How---how do your recordicons fit into this? Are they courting me as well?” 

The laughter from Soundwave was unexpected. “Recordicons: sparklings. Framed: for their protection.” 

Ratchet blinked at him, flummoxed. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “So---wait---we’ve been---how could you even do that?”

“Recordicons: protected,” Soundwave shrugged, and Ratchet couldn't argue with that really, they had all made it through the war, surprisingly.

“Can you...ah...have non-Recordicon sparklings? Or would you---ah---expect me to carry?” he finally asked, just managing to force the words from his vocal processor. The thought wasn’t entirely unwanted, which if anything made Ratchet all the more uncomfortable. 

“Soundwave: can carry normal frames. recordicons’ sparks transferred after emergence. Will have their frames upgraded if they find it agreeable. Ratchet: wants to carry?”

Ratchet blinked at him, lip-plates opening and closing for a breem before any sound came out, “Yes---maybe---I don’t know.”

Soundwave chuckled at his apparent indecision. The sound was still eerie to Ratchet’s audials, but far less startling than before.

Ratchet nearly cursed as he felt the energon pool beneath his cheekplates, the metal heating as his embarrassment increased. Talking to patients about such matters had never had such an effect on him, but talking of himself in that matter...he felt mortified, and would have crawled into the nearest hiding hold had his dignity allowed it.

Soundwave stopped laughing, sensing Ratchet’s unease. If anything that only made the medic more flustered. “Rule five: don’t read my processor.”

“Soundwave: did not. Ratchet: broadcasting feelings...loudly,” the Hostmech said, amusement softening his normal monotone. “Much to process. Perhaps: Ratchet needs time to consider things?”

“I---yes, I do,” he said becoming flustered all over again. he saw the mech to the door and vented in relief when he was finally alone.

He was going to kill Prime when he got the chance.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Ratchet did not hear from Soundwave the next solar cycle, or the following one either. He was, doubly surprised, when three sols later he entered his medbay to find it overrun with recordicons. He opened his mouth to yell, then realized that they were, in fact, tidying up. Tools were shuffled away into their proper place. The floor was being swept, and Rumble came out of the utility closet, mop and bucket in hand. It was an altogether bizarre sight.

“Hey, boss!” Frenzy stopped sweeping and waved frantically.

Ratchet could only stare. “Hello.” He said, moving past the two mechlings to the storage closet where he found the three fliers apparently deeply engrossed in organizing the closet’s contents. He blinked owlishly, as he watched Laserbeak sorting nuts and bolts, Buzzsaw organizing sheet metal and other odds and ends, and Ratbat...who was seemingly in recharge on the very top shelf.

His medbay had turned into bedlam. He couldn't, however fault Soundwave for the thought. He turned back, catching Rumble’s optic. “Where is your creator?” 

Rumble smirked, “Bringing some energon. He stopped by to talk to Prime, ah guess.”

“I see. And how do you feel about this...whatever this is?”

The twins exchanged glances, “If you make Dad happy, we’ll be happy.”

Ratchet almost flinched at the human term. “I---see.”

“He’s been alone for a long time,” Rumble shrugged, “Most bots don’t want to become involved with a mech with so much...baggage.”

Ratchet frowned, not knowing what to say about that. “They were fools then.”

Frenzy shrugged, “I guess. Some mechs...”he glanced back to where Ravage was recharging on a low shelf. “...some thought less of creator for framing us the way he did. Beast frames were never treated well, from what I can remember.”

“It’s stupid,” Rumble grumbled, “It’s not like we all don’t have mech forms as well. Ravage just prefers the other. They were all stupid and didn’t deserve dad anyway.”

Ratchet raised a browplate, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t even know what to say to that. It was obvious they had been hurt in the past, and oddly, despite everything it warmed his spark that they were so willing to give him a chance now. He huffed softly, wondering when and how he had developed such feelings for a bunch of ‘cons, younglings or not.

He was saved from thinking it over too hard as Soundwave came in with a tray full of gelled energon. Ratchet’s optics settled on the treats, and he was hard pressed to hide his delight.

“Soundwave.”

“Ratchet: fueling time?”

Rumble dropped the mop, “Daaaaad, did you bring us some too?”

Soundwave huffed, “Rumble: correct term carrier.”

Rumble huffed right back, and held his hand out expectantly. Soundwave ignored him, offering the tray to Ratchet instead, who plucked a treat off of the tray and popped it into his mouth, not surprised in the least that it was his favourite flavour with a crystal center. It melted against his glossa, far sweeter than any fuel he had had in an age. He barely stopped the moan from leaving his glossa. His field flaring out happily, mixing with Soundwave’s for a moment before he pulled it in tight to his plating.

He had not missed the pleased, nearly smug lilt of Soundwave’s field as they touched. “Ratchet: approves?” he asked, offering another.

“Ah, yes,” he said, gingerly taking another, noting the way Rumble eyed it. “Perhaps the sparklings could have some as well?”

Rumble grabbed one, the moment Soundwave offered, grabbing a second and running it over to Frenzy.

Ratchet watched them, intrigued. It had been far too long since he had been around any younglings. He wasn’t sure Blaster’s brood counted as such, they were all older, and created well before the war. Adults before they had come to bond with the Hostmech, at least that was what he had been told. He couldn't help but wonder now.

There was Bumblebee and Bluestreak, but they had long since passed into adulthood. Raising both mechs had been a group effort, he still was not sure how successful that was. Bumblebee was well enough adjusted, even though he had one of the more fragile egos. And Bluestreak...he would never be quite right, despite all of his counseling by Smokescreen. 

Ratchet’s spark contracted, and he wondered for the millionth time what they had done to their race. He popped one of the candies in his mouth, letting it melt slowly and tried to push away the melancholy thoughts. They certainly were not helping anyone, least of all himself.

He looked up, and almost laughed out loud as two of the flier streaked in, perching on Soundwave in the most undignified manner. It was enough to knock Ratchet out of the melancholy that had nearly overwhelmed him. Laserbeak perched on his helm, and Buzzsaw on one shoulder, clearly demanding a treat. Soundwave vented, and finally offered them each one. From Soundwave’s reaction he could not help but wonder if this was a commonplace event.

They each were given another treat before they both took off heading back to the closet to finish whatever task it was they had taken on.

“You are serious...about this...aren’t you?” Ratchet asked, stepping from ped to ped, nearly anxious. He had been courted enough times in the past but it had never progressed past that. It had always left him wondering what he lacked. 

“Soundwave: completely serious. Intentions: expressed two solar cycles ago. Has not changed,” he stiffened noticeably, looking to the medbay door, Ratchet frowned.

Vortex sauntered in the medbay, smelling of mech-blood and oil. Ratchet flinched away, but the rotor-mech didn’t seem to notice.

“What are you doing in my medbay?” Ratchet glared at the rotor, hand itching for a wrench.

“I thought,” he said, moving closer to Ratchet, completely ignoring Soundwave, “That since those in charge are bent on going through with this peace thing we could have a mutually beneficial relationship.” The ‘coptor smirked, pressing his field out to caress the medic. “I’m sure we could have a lot of fun together.”

“Vortex: out of line. Soundwave: courting Ratchet,” his visor glinted with barely concealed anger.

Vortex only laughed, “Why would he want an unfeeling waste of protoform like you?” the rotary laughed harder, circling Ratchet, he purred as he snapped his mask open, kissing the medic hard. His lips bit, drawing energon. 

Ratchet pounded on the larger mechs armour, trying to push him away. Soundwave watched in shock for one brief moment, before the tentacles hidden away behind his armour unfurled and he was tearing Ratchet out of the rotary’s grasp. “Desist: Vortex out of line. Vortex: Endangering peace.”

“Get the frack out of here you freak,” Rumble hissed from the other side of the medbay, the other recordicons gathering together, glaring at the rotary mech as if they could bring him down with their stare alone.

“Yeah, you stupid jerk. The boss is courting Ratchet, not you. Get out of here,” Frenzy glared.

They seemed at a stand off until First Aid walked through the doorway, reading a datapad, he dropped it as soon as he walked in. “W-w-what is going on in here?”

Ratchet did not miss the way the rotary leered at First Aid, looking the small mech up and down. He bristled, “Nothing is going on Aid, could you please come back later.” 

“No, why don’t you stay,” Vortex purred, “Or better yet leave and I will come with you.” 

“You will not get anywhere near my apprentice,” Ratchet growled, hating the confused look on First Aid’s faceplates. He didn’t know well enough to be scared.

“Ratchet...it’s fine. We are at peace now, right?” First Aid said, making Ratchet’s spark freeze over. It would be a frosty day in the pit before he ever let that monster near an innocent like Aid.

“No, it isn’t fine,” Ratchet snapped, pushing himself away from the tentacles still holding him tightly. He lashed out, grabbing one of Vortex’s rotors, twisting and snapping it. He expected the mech to back away, instead he moved into the hand tearing at him, the metal snapped, and Vortex moaned needily.

“I knew you had it in you,” Vortex purred.

First Aid watched the exchange before backing out of the medbay and leaving perhaps even going to get help.

Ratchet dropped the plating as if he had been burned. “Get out of here. Just get out.” 

“I don’t think that is what you want,” Vortex said, move closer.

Ratchet backed away until he ran into Soundwave, the mech’s hands going to Ratchet’s shoulders protectively. “Vortex is not wanted.” He lashed out with his telepathy, ripping through the mech’s firewalls like they were nothing. Vortex stumbled back, cursing and fled the medbay, leaving Ratchet slumping against Soundwave.

Ratchet vented heavily, still worried that the mech would seek out First Aid. He was tempted to comm his apprentice. He did not though, knowing First Aid would not appreciate the mother henning.

Soundwave finally let go of him, ducking his helm. “Soundwave: apologizes. Already broke rules one and three. Ratchet: wants Soundwave to lea--”

Ratchet grabbed at his shoulders, “Pit no. Get rid of that mask.”

Soundwave’s mask slid open and a second later Ratchet pressed his lips against Soundwave’s, controlling the kiss.

The Hostmech had not realized how hot the medic was running, or that he would dominate the kiss. Soundwave could still taste the faint tang of energon on Ratchet’s glossa as it flicked into his mouth.

He moaned, pulling the medic closer. It would have been perfect had the recordicons not chosen to ruin the moment by catcalling and whooping behind them.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

The next morning Ratchet was busy with scheduled check-ups and repairs. He entirely missed the small black mechling who waited a full joor for him to get done, and eventually fell into recharge in one of the seats in the sitting area. When Ratchet finally spotted him he almost did not recognize the felid mech.

“Ravage?” Ratchet said softly.

The mechling startled looking up at him with big, gold optics. They had an exotic slant, and his faceplates bore a striking resemblance to Soundwave’s own. He wondered, for a moment what the other mechlings looked like. “Ratchet, sorry. I---was wondering. Do you think you could teach me? I know you already have two apprentices, but...”

“I could take on another. First Aid is about finished with his training, he just needs experience,” Ratchet said, his tone serious. 

Ravage nodded gravely, “I would do my best. I promise. Whatever you ask of me. I---I need something to do.”

Ratchet nodded in understanding, it was a big enough problem for most of the Cybertronians. The war ending left so many floundering for a purpose. He couldn't say he minded taking this youngling under his wing.

“Have you always wanted to be a medic?” Ratchet asked, truly curious.

“Since I was a mechlet.” Ravage shrugged, his face as expressive as Soundwave’s. “Carrier used to let Glit watch us. I’ve always admired him.”

Ratchet started, “That old cat? Is he still around?”

“I don’t know,” Ravage said, a frown marring his cheekplates.

“Mmm...I’m sorry,” Ratchet said, and found it---surprisingly---to be true.

The little mech nodded, “When can we start?” 

“Bright and early next solar cycle,” Ratchet smiled, pleased with his enthusiasm. “Let me speak with Soundwave first. He does know you are here? Doesn’t he?”

“Sort of,” Ravage said, not meeting Ratchet’s gaze, wiggling under the medics suddenly intense regard.

“Sort of? Did he put you up to this?” Ratchet gave him a piercing glare.

“No. Not like that. He told us not to spy on you,” Ravage said. “He’d scold me so much if he thought I was not doing what he told me to.”

Ratchet nodded, “You should get back then.” 

Ravage nodded, giving him a shy grin before bolting away. “I’ll be back next sol.”

Ratchet watched him go, sighing. He wondered what he had even gotten himself into this time.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

The next sol Ravage showed up to the medbay, he in fact beat Ratchet there, and sat with more patience than Ratchet would credit most grown mecha.

“Good morning squirt,” Ratchet said, patting Ravage on the helm. “Ready to start.”

“More than anything,” the small mech piped up, following Ratchet into the medbay. They worked side by side nearly the whole morning. Ratchet was more than pleased how quick of a study Ravage was proving to be. They scheduled a time the following week for Ravage to come in and receive some upgrades with basic knowledge he could build on.

Soundwave showed up around the time for their mid-cycle fueling, with treats as he had before, and a cube of spiced energon for each of them. Ratchet could even ignore the way some of the mechs passed the medbay gawking, or in some cases glaring.

Soundwave could not help but notice the glances, “Ratchet: Well? Ravage: not a bother?”

The small mech sent a withering glare at his carrier. “I am not a bother,” he hissed.

“He really isn’t,” Ratchet said, sipping on his cube. “He might have a talent for it, I’m sure we will see in time.”

Ravage watched them, popping a treat into his mouth, “And maybe it’s time I get that upgrade. Could I, please?`” 

Soundwave vented, “Ravage: too soon.”

Ratchet frowned, shifted and tried to talk himself out of meddling---more. “If you change your mind I would be happy to help. With---ah---with any of them.”

Soundwave nodded, shifting himself, he didn’t miss the glare Ravage threw his was. “Soundwave: appreciates this, but...must consider implications.”

Ratchet opened his mouth, frowned, and abruptly snapped it shut. He did not even know what to say to that.

“Ratchet: free this nightcycle?”

Ratchet tilted his head, “I can free up my schedule,” the medic said, canting his head to the side and watching the Hostmech.

Soundwave nodded, his field reaching out teasingly before he brought it back in tight to his plating, he stiffened, turning towards the door that was to Ratchet’s back.

Ratchet frowned, slowly stiffened as he caught sight of the red mech standing in the doorway. Ratchet vented softly, already dreading what would come out of the minibot’s vocalizer.

“What the frack is this, Ratchet? Already whoring yourself out to the cons?” He sneered, optics settling on Soundwave.

“What do you want, Cliffjumper?” Ratchet asked, ignoring the slur.

“Nothing now, like I’d let you touch me after---that thing.”

Ratchet opened his mouth, and shut it with a snap. It hurt more than he was willing to admit. He had a feeling that despite Optimus’ edict this was not the last time he would hear this kind of talk. “Well, unless you are bleeding out then, I suggest you get your sorry aft out of my medbay.”

Cliffjumper rolled his optics. “Whatever. I’ll find First Aid, at least he isn’t...well...like you.”

Ratchet’s optics narrowed, already pinging Prowl before the red minibot stepped out of the medbay. ::Prowl, I need you to have a...chat with Cliffjumper..::

There was no mistaking the sigh on the other side of the comm, ::What did he do now?::

::What didn’t he do? Insult an officer, call me a---whore in front of Soundwave. I can understand if he doesn’t agree with what Optimus is asking of us, but we still need to present a united front.::

::I will give him an attitude adjustment. Primus knows it probably won’t make a dent in that thick processor of his. Prowl out.::

Ratchet cringed, afraid what Soundwave would even think after Cliffjumper’s outburst. “I’m sorry for---for that. If you want to---” He didn’t even know what to say, his optics finally shifted from Ravage, to Soundwave, and finally up to the ceiling. He did not like talking about his past, there had been rumours enough when he made CMO so young. Not that there was anyone else to fill that niche, not really. “It’s not even like---”

“Soundwave: understands. Past: Doesn’t matter. Minibot’s: words do not matter.” the Hostmech reached out a hand to touch the medic, stopping before he touched the white plating.

Ratchet frowned, tempted to close the space between them. It had been long enough since he had a lover, and contrary to the rumour mill Prime had never been one of them. Thinking about it made him tetchy and cross, but he pushed that away as well. He took the step, leaning against the blue mech and letting their fields mingle, eventually feeling himself calming. “I don’t want something that is just a---political arrangement.”

“Soundwave: hoping for more,” the communications officer finally said.

Ravage sat on the chair, watching them both, a smug little grin itching on to his faceplates. He had high hopes for this, already hoping for another sibling...or two. He hopped down, and slinked out before they even noticed.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

The next day cycle Ratchet lay curled up in his berth long after his boot-up cycle had finished. If he was truthful with himself, what Cliffjumper had said hurt. It hurt a lot. He had not heard those kind of accusations in vorns. He knew he was not a noble, not now anyway. It had been a long time since he had been disowned by his creators, and he could not cast himself among THAT crowd any longer. He had worked in some of the worst parts of Cybertron. In the illegal gladiatorial rings, before Prime had noticed him, and gave him a place. But he had never once been in that mech’s berth. Really, he had not been in many. He had been careful in choosing his lovers, not wanting to add any truth to the rumors.

Soundwave at least didn’t seem to care what others said. If anything it raised the mech in his esteem. It seemed as though the mech might be able to actually care for him. He hoped so.

He was supposed to meet the mech at the Mesa Amphitheatre. The thought made him smile slightly. He wasn’t entirely surprised that Soundwave’s tastes ran to the classical. He could see how the mathematical precision would be appealing to the serious mech, opposed to what Jazz and Blaster listened to. He couldn’t get into it himself. Too much a jumble of sound.

He dragged himself off of the berth, squinting at the washracks and finally made his way inside. He turned the spray on as hot as it would go, venting as tight tension cables finally relaxed. He had not realized how tense he was until it all drained away.

Finally he stepped out of the solvent spray and under the drier before he grabbed the wax and a polishing rag. He worked the wax into his plating until it gleamed under the bright lights. He hadn’t worried about such things since he was a young mech in the towers. The thought made him snort. He doubted that revelation would win him any more friends than the other rumours.

He had never had cause to shine his plating when he worked down in the free clinic in the slums of Kaon. Being a shiny mech there was only asking for trouble, likewise in the gladiatorial rings.

Finished he stood and looked in front of the mirror, clinically examining the reflection before declaring himself. ready. His tank fluttered as he slipped out of the door. He hoped the hall would be empty, but luck was not on his side. Far from it.

He passed Sideswipe, who watched him with raised browplates. Ratchet had little doubt that he was sharing the image with his brother. Ratchet vented, and finally passed the recreation room, dreading who would be there.

“Hey Ratchet, where you going as shiny as a pleasurebot?” Sunstreaker yelled, smirking when Ratchet flinched. He didn’t miss the look that Tracks shot him. 

“You trying to get another promotion?” Tracks smirked, “I bet Prime would like that. Or is that where you are coming from?”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Starscream interrupted them from the corner. Ratchet had completely missed the seeker and Prowl sitting in the corner, and from the shock on Tracks and Sunstreaker’s faceplates they had as well. “I haven’t seen you that shiny since the Ascendancy Ball your creators held for you,” he said, addressing Ratchet, and looking the mech up and down appreciatively.

Prowl hit Starscream in the side with a resounding thunk. “Stop staring. He is not your intended. And as for you two,” he said leveling a glare at Sunstreaker and Tracks, “I’ve had about enough of this kind of talk. I expect to see you both at my office at 0700. Both of you get cleaning detail.”

Both mechs groaned, Sunstreaker the loudest. “Prowl! We didn’t mean anything by it,” Sunstreaker glared.

Ratchet nearly trembled, more than enough people already knew what he had been before: Prime, Prowl, Starscream, Thundercracker. Mirage and Tracks had not been a twinkle in their creators’ optics when he was disowned. He certainly did not want anyone like Cliffjumper to know about this. It only lent more ammo. 

He watched Tracks and Sunstreaker take their leave from the room, and nearly wilted. He hated this kind of attention, it made him want to grab a wrench and hit them both upside the helm, but that would hardly solve anything.

“They are only giving you a hard time because they know it’s getting to you,” Starscream said, watching him through half closed optics. “But...you know...if you ever get tired of the telepath,” he smirked, altogether ignoring the glare that Prowl gave him. 

“I wouldn’t count on it Starscream. You should know we don’t suit. We didn’t back then, and I can’t imagine you have changed that much. I know I haven’t.”

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Soundwave was waiting for him under the stars. They transformed and walked in silence to the amphitheater, and into the light cast up from the stage, to the rim of the valley. The orchestra was already tuning up their instruments, the sounds reverberating off of Ratchet’s sensor suits. It was all he could do not to give a full body shudder.

Soundwave’s field brushed against his own fleetingly, full of anticipation. It made Ratchet smile. He was sure this sort of outing had been few and far between before the peace accord between the two factions. Soundwave’s field positively buzzed. Ratchet was hard pressed not to feel the the same kind of anticipation even when the humans gawked at them as they settled at the very edge of the open bowl. The staring stopped soon enough when the first notes started, the crowd hushed, and the first vibrations reached Ratchet’s sensor suite. He offlined his optics feeling the melody build, vibrations thrumming against his plating. It rose and fell, building higher, like a crashing wave leaving Ratchet venting hard, heat rising from his plating. He glanced over at the organics, hoping that they had not noticed. They were all, to his relief, focused on the performance.

Soundwave’s own visor was dark, and he swayed slightly as if hypnotised, or to Ratchet’s amusement much like Beachcomber when he had gotten into some substance he should not have. He could not imagine that Soundwave would appreciate the comparison. He thought Soundwave was completely lost in a world of his own making, until the mech reached out for Ratchet’s hand. Tentatively at first, as if he was sure of rejection.

Ratchet smiled in the dark, leaning into the other mech, plating barely touching as the music shifted. String and woodwinds stirring the night air. The shriller pitch of the violin made his spark lurch in his chest, his field flaring out before he could control it. It was embarrassing how easily it made him come undone. He would have been mortified had the humans even realized, but they all sat there oblivious. Equally uncaring as Soundwave’s hand caressed his own, leaving the plating tingling. He wondered for a moment if Soundwave knew the plating there was extra sensitive. If he didn’t before he knew now. Ratchet’s engines stalled before settling into a purr not unlike an earth felines.

He didn’t miss the nearly silent chuckle of the mech beside him, more vibration than sound. Or the way Soundwave’s attention focused back on the orchestra. The rise and fall translating to a far more playful melody, pausing for a breath, then rising again up, and up until it was soaring. The mercurial beat shifted, frolicing back as the woodwinds sang out louder, leaving his sensor suite tingling again. 

He swayed slightly as the music shifted again. The nearly mournful thrumming of the base making him shiver, and draw closer to Soundwave. Each heavy beat left him venting hard, optics brightening. It was all he could do to override his fans, and ignore the charge subtly building through his systems. It was hardly the place for such things. The melody reached a pitch, the sharp notes leaving the medic reeling, his field scuttled reaching out for Soundwave’s. The telepath hesitated, and then reached out his own field letting it envelope the red and white mech. Ratchet vented in relief as calmness surrounded him and dampened his raging system. He offlined his optics, letting himself float in it. The charge still skittering through his system leached away as if they had been grounded. He nearly laughed when he realized that was exactly what Soundwave had done, using one of his tentacles as a grounding wire.

The heat began to dissipate, gradually leaving his chassis. Had they have been any other place he would have found a far more interesting way to get rid of the charge. Ratchet ex-vented, it was just as well. He was not sure he was ready for that step just yet. Things were moving far faster than he imagined they would already.

The more he rolled the idea around in his processor though he found he didn’t mind. It was far too easy to fall into the humans’ sense of time. Far easier to live in the moment. He scooted closer, optics darting to the humans and back up to Soundwave, his hand finally settled on the sensor-rich living metal of the tentacle, stroking it much as one would a cat. He smiled in the dark as he heard Soundwave’s ex-vents hitch. He could work with this.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

The concert wound down and finally they were left in the dark driving back to the Autobots base in a companionable silence. Ratchet was still running hot with anticipation. He had already made up his processor on what he wanted. Charge crawled through his his systems, rising steadily as they finally reached the base. He felt more jittery than a mechling still in his seals, and cursed himself for it.

Soundwave walked him to the door of his rooms, then turned to go. Surprised filtered through his fields when Ratchet grabbed his arm.

“Stay. Please.” Ratchet ex-vented, his voice going to static.

Soundwave hesitated, but eventually let himself be pulled into the medic’s rooms. His mask clicked open as soon as the door snapped shut, and he watched Ratchet for a moment as if gauging his reaction. “Ratchet: sure?”

Ratchet trembled, “Scrap, of course---”

Soundwave crossed the distance between them, catching Ratchet’s lips with his own. Pressing his glossa in, flicking it teasingly against Ratchet’s own. Ratchet moaned against him, tilting his head to give the larger bot more access.

The charge rose between them, crackling and arching across their plating. Soundwave smiled against Ratchet’s lip-plating. He pulled him closer, tentacles snaking out from their hiding place to wrap around the medic. They glossed across sensitive living metal, dipping in between the plating they rubbed against the wires within.

Ratchet clung to him, ex-venting fast as his armour loosened, pressing away and exposing the protoform below.

His optics brightened until they were more white than blue. He vented loudly in the silence, panting as Soundwave dropped kisses across his frame, nipping, nibbling and laving the plating with his glossa as if he could memorize it thus.

Ratchet offlined his optics, squirming as more tentacle wrapped around him, finding all the sweet spots on his frame, and teasing him until he was gasping. Engines stuttered loudly and his fans kicked on double time trying to dispel some of the heat roaring through his internal systems.

Ratchet cycled his optics in surprise and then puzzlement as the tentacles withdrew, and Soundwave leaned back, watching him through half-lidded optics. A whine left his vocalizer and he tried to gather his wits about him. Tried to clear his processor enough to find out why it had stopped. “Please.” 

“Ratchet: unwell?”

The medic sputtered. “Don’t stop.” Ratchet groaned as he was suddenly pinged across a private comm. It was the last thing he needed now, but it was Red Alert.

::What do you want, Aid? I’m kinda busy?:: He frowned, exchanging a glance with Soundwave, who pulled away. That was the last thing Ratchet wanted.

::I need your help.:: First Aid’s voice sounded funny on the other end of the comm. ::Please,:: he whimpered, ::I’m...ah...hiding in the storage closet. I---I---ah--- need you to talk to my brothers please.::

:: Why do I need to talk to your brothers?:: Ratchet growled, his impatience showing through.

There was a loud click on the other end of the comm, First Aid whimpered. ::Ah---ah---Vortex. They---they are mad about V-Vortex a-a-asking to court me. We’re---we’re hiding in the storage closet in the medbay.::

::Vortex is with you?::

The only reply was a whimper, which made Ratchet curse and wish he could bleach the whole conversation from his processor. ::Seriously, you comm me when you are interfacing that glitch? Seriously?::

::Please, Ratchet.:: First Aid’s voice rose in pitch, and there was a suspiciously loud, and rythmic banging noise in the background. Ratchet huffed, hearing First Aid moan, he slammed the link closed. The charge completely draining from his system, he met Soundwave’s amused gaze.

“Want to help me get that stupid rotary and my apprentice out of a jam?” Ratchet asked, his own shoulder pauldrons falling. This was not how he imagined spending the rest of the evening. He made a little huffing noise, charge falling far faster than it had risen. It was dis-sparkening.

Soundwave only nodded, tentacles neatly tucking themselves behind plating. “Ratchet: lead the way.”

Ratchet frowned, “You sure? We could---” he huffed again, looking away. “Fragging ‘Aid. I’m going to strangle him once this gets straightened out.”

His frown only deepened at the laughter that followed behind him. 

OoOoOoOoOoOo

The chaos that greeted them in the medbay was not entirely unexpected, nor was the four angry bots trying to dismantle the storage closet’s door.

“What...are you doing to my medbay?” he asked, optics narrowing and settling on Hot Spot.

All four of First Aid’s brothers stopped what they were doing and looked guiltily over at Ratchet. There was a long and drawn out silence before Streetwise finally spoke up. “That monster kidnapped Aid. We’re just trying to get him out.” 

“I would think it’s obvious he doesn’t want out,” Ratchet said, rolling his optics. “He’s old enough to make his own choices, no matter how foolish those choices may be,” he said, leaning back into Soundwave’s quiet (and slightly looming) presence.

“Ratchet!” Blade’s huffed, glaring daggers at the door. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Ratchet: completely serious,” Soundwave interjected.

Ratchet nodded, “You mechs need to clear out.”

“But, Ratchet, you---” Groove said, his normal cool leaving him completely.

“Out. Before I throw you out,” Ratchet pronounced, pulling himself to his full height and glaring at the young bots until they finally slunk out with their proverbial tails between their legs.

Ratchet huffed, sealing the medbay after they left, the last thing he needed was for them to rush back in as soon as he opened the storeroom door.

“Ratchet: efficient,” Soundwave chuckled, following him to stop in front of the storage room door.

“Hardly. I’m half tempted to take apart that stupid rotary. Ruined my night.” 

“Night: hardly over,” Soundwave observed, amusement colouring his tone.

“Right,” the medic ex-vented, as he typed in the code for the storage room, and stepped out of the way as the rotary-pain-in-the-aft, and First Aid fell into a heap at his peds.

Ratchet looked away, “Scrap, Aid---what---I don’t even what to know. Just cover yourself up.” His optics wandered, settling on Vortex. “And you---I would say you ought to be ashamed of yourself. But it is clear that is not possible.”

Vortex laughed, his uncovered mouth curling into a smirk.

“You hurt him, and I will break you,” Ratchet said, looking more angry by the moment.

“Maybe I, uh, wa---” First Aid flushed, peaking around Vortex’s bulk.

“More information than I wanted, Aid. And also not what I meant,” Ratchet said bristling.

“You sure about that?” Vortex purred, far too close to Ratchet for the red and white mech’s comfort. “I could give you a first hand---”

“Vortex, I suggest you don’t finish that sentence,” First Aid said, his blue optics darkening to nearly black.

The rotarymech stopped, and blinked at the smaller medic, his engine revving. “Or?”

“If you think, I am going to share you, or let you run about like some prostibot propositioning every medic you see, you are sorely mistaken.” First Aid said, “Unless you really don’t want---”

“I never said that,” Votex purred, heat rising off of his plating.

Ratchet shook his helm. “Maybe you two should...I don’t know...find a room. A room that ISN’T in my medbay. In fact...I insist.”

First Aid hummed, glancing over at Vortex. “If you're good I’ll even tie you up.” 

Ratchet didn’t miss the way the rotary hummed in pleasure, even though he want to more than anything.

“I’ll be so good you won’t even recognize me,” Vortex said, following First Aid out of the infirmary like a leashed cyberhound.

“Promises, promises,” Ratchet heard First Aid tsk as they stepped out of the medbay. 

Ratchet shook his helm again, before he finally turned back to Soundwave...who was watching him intently.

“Soundwave?” Ratchet finally said, the sound coming out staticky. “Is something wrong?” 

Soundwave chuckled, stepping closer his mask snapped open, making Ratchet jump at the sound, “Ratchet: still running hot.” His lips curled into a smirk, as he herded the medic back towards the nearest medical berth.

“Soundwave, this isn’t the place. Anyone could---” He made the most undignified squawking noise as Soundwave manhandled him onto the berth and his engined revved despite himself.

“Ratchet’s: chassis thinks differently,” Soundwave leaned in, catching Ratchet’s lips against his own. “Ratchet: beautiful.”

“No, I’m not,” Ratchet shivered, feeling Soundwave’s presence slide across his processor, asking permission. Ratchet’s optics widened, but he let down his outer firewalls cautiously, and gasped as the Hostmech’s presence flooded his processor. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. He vented loudly, his voice rising to static as Soundwave tweaked the pleasure centers in his processor. His backstrut bowed under the onslaught. He would have fallen off the berth had Soundwave not pinned him, tentacles unfurling, they attacked the medic’s chassis with a renewed fervor.

The telepath opened up his mind to Ratchet, showing the mech below him just how he saw him. How much he admired Ratchet’s pluck and intelligence, just how much he lusted after the frame below him. Soundwave kissed him hard, hands and tentacles roamed over that pristine plating, left paint streaks in their wake, and did not feel the least bit contrite for it. He wanted the world to know Ratchet was claimed.

If anything that thought sent the heat pinging through Ratchet’s systems, and finally pushed him into the first of a cascade of overloads, which eventually knocked him offline.

He came back online to charge already rising in his processor. One of the tentacles brushed across the rim of his valve insistently, glossing over the outer nodes, and bringing a whimper to his vocalizer. It pushed inside, making the medic writhe as it was soon followed by a second. They thrust in counterpoint, scraping across sensitive nodes until Ratchet was crying out.

The Hostmech purred above Ratchet. More tentacled snaked out, wrapping around Ratchet’s white thighs, spreading them wider. Soundwave moved closer, chuckling. The sound vibrated through Ratchet’s plating, making him gasp. He reached out, smoothing digits across those white thighs, his lip twitched up as he watched Ratchet’s venting grow ragged.

Soundwave leaned in close, pulling Ratchet up for a kiss, their glossas tangling. Ratchet was panting hard once the kiss ended.

“Soundwave,” he leaned up, fingers moving over kibble, and dipping into seams as he finally gained control of himself. “You...are a horrible tease.” His engine revved loudly, heat rising from his plating as he tightened his grip on Soundwave’s kibble and pulled him close. “Completely, horrible,” his voice fizzled to static.

Soundwave chuckled, and let Ratchet pull him down. The Hostmech hummed thoughtfully when Ratchet leaned up, pressing their lips together, his legs wiggling against the tentacles holding them.

Soundwave leaned away, a frown inching onto his uncovered face. He had that look on his face of someone getting a private comm. Ratchet could not help but whimper as the warm plating withdrew from his own, and Soundwave put some distance between them. “Megatron: calling Decepticons away.”

“What? No---no you can’t just---what happened?” Ratchet whimpered, grabbing for the other mech and pulling him close.

“Soundwave: must go.” 

“Not yet. Not now,” Ratchet said, pulling him close and wrapping his freed legs around the Hostmech.

Soundwave groaned, pushing Ratchet down, grinding their panels against one another. Lubricant slicking the passage as Soundwave finally sunk into the medic, pounding into him until the red and white bot was shrieking beneath him. Ratchet keened, arching up into each thrust until they finally fell offline together, charge ripping through their systems.

It seemed to take an eternity for Ratchet to finally boot back up. By the time he did he was alone in the medbay, no signed of the Hostmech. He cursed, as he made his way to the washrack determined to put himself to rights.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

He was still cursing to himself silently the next solar cycle when he did not hear back from Soundwave. Not a peep. No comm, no messages, nothing. No recordicons lurking in his medbay. In short he felt as dejected as he felt angry that the mech could just walk out on him. He couldn't fathom why Megatron would call Soundwave away, not after the peace treaty. He made his way to Prime’s office determined to get answers.

He pinged the door in question, not waiting for an answer he strode in, prepared to yell---only to stop and frown, watching Prime sitting back in his chair with a human-sized garbage pail hugged to his chest. The smell of stale energon tickled Ratchet’s olfactory sensors.

Optimus glowered at him, “What?” 

“I was going to ask you the same thing. What is going on?” he opticed the Prime, “Or better still why haven’t made your way to the medbay. You look like the Pit.”

The look he received could have peeled paint. Ratchet could respect that. “I take it old Buckethead walked out and took his people with him.”

Optimus’ shoulder plates hunched, and his tank rumbled loudly. “Something like that. Megatron and I might have had an argument. He might have stomped out like a spoiled little sparkling. I might have called him an aft-head. It wasn’t my best moment.”

“The treaty---”

“Isn’t nullified, he hasn’t---Frack I don’t know. It’s a mess. One of the---we were taking a conference call with one of the Saudi princes we were negotiating with to procure oil from---when---dear Primus the human assumed a few things.”

“A few things?” Ratchet asked, frowning.

“He asked if my consort would be taking the veil now that I had brought HER to heel. Megatron wasn’t precisely amused,” Optimus said, his tank rumbling again.

“He thought Megatron was---” Ratchet shook his head.

“And the prince kept calling him my consort, even after Megatron loudly insisted he was the Lord High Protector. It is a mess.” 

Ratchet frowned, “I can tell. And the nausea?”

Optimus huffed, “I was going to come see you. I just...got distracted.”

“How long?” Ratchet finally asked.

Optimus squirmed in his seat. “Since before the treaty.”

Ratchet blinked at him for a long moment, rebooting his audials, thinking he had misheard. “What?”

“Well---”

Ratchet vented loudly. “The whole treaty happened because you were messing around with old Bucket-head, that is what you are telling me. And...frack it all, Optimus, if you thought you were carrying why didn’t you just come to me?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Optimus said, glaring. “I was---I don’t even know what I’m going to do now,” Optimus said, clutching the trashcan hard enough to start crumpling the metal.

Ratchet shook his head, pulling a scanner out of his subspace.

Optimus nearly dropped the trashcan, “Here?” 

“Why not. Open up,” Ratchet said grimly. He grumbled, scanning the then exposed spark. He cursed again. “For love of Primus. You---Optimus---are in the last stages of carrying. Seriously, what were you thinking?” he ex-vented loudly. “It won’t be long, her frame is completely developed.”

“She?”

“Yes, she. It’s a femme. Not a healthy one. She needs her sire near, and she has been leeching off of your systems because you have not been taking any of the supplements you need to compensate for it. You, Prime, are an idiot. I suggest you go to Megatron and fix this.”

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Things did not settle the next solar cycle, or the following. He handled the supplements Optimus needed, but the mech was a moping mess. He didn’t have to ask to know that Megatron wasn’t accepting comms, but rather sulking off on the Nemesis. The fighting had not started back up at least, instead there was nothing but silence on that front. It made Ratchet as uneasy as the rumbling in his own tank. He had felt nothing but uncomfortable the past few sols. Worse than uncomfortable. Unsettled. Nauseated. He was hoping it was nerves. He had a distinct feeling it was not, but he had not screwed up the courage to do the scan yet.

He had a bad feeling something like this would happen. Even their species was hell bent on surviving. The last great war had resulted in a surfeit of bitlets created as soon as it ended. Their systems seemed primed to repeat that feat. Ratchet was not entirely averse to such a thing. There were far too few of them. Far fewer younglings.

As if summoned by his processor some of those younglings came stomping in the door, carting a struggling First Aid between them. Each brother grasped a limb, suspending the bot between them. For once First Aid’s normally jovial facade had fallen away.

“Let go. Ratchet, make them let go of me,” he said, squirming even more until they finally set him onto the ground.

“That stupid Rotor did something to our brother,” Streetwise growled, “He’s been purging up all of his fuel. The fragger gave him a virus.”

“Or something,” Blades added helpfully.

Ratchet snorted, having a suspicion of exactly what was wrong with his apprentice. “Come on, let me scan you, Aid.”

“I’d rather not,” First Aid said stiffly, not moving until Hot Spot mech-handled him onto the medical berth.

Ratchet shrugged, opening up the medical port on First Aid’s arm and plugging himself in. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, but you are going to anyway.”

“What did that glitch do to him, anyways?” Groove said, inching closer. 

Ratchet’s attention fixed on the display, “I think...you mechs should leave. I need to discuss this with First Aid.” 

“Nuh uh, no way in pit I’m leaving until you tell us what the frag is going on,” Streetwise said, planting his peds stubbornly.

Ratchet’s optics narrowed, and brightened. “You WILL get out of my medbay, or I will throw you out.”

First Aid’s shoulders slumped, “Please. Let me talk to Ratchet alone.”

His brothers gave him a mulish look nearly as one, not bending to Ratchet’s demands.

“We aren’t leaving until you tell us what is going on,” Hot Spot said, glaring. “Then we are going to kill that Rotor.”

“No,” First Aid said, optics wide. “You can’t.”

“He hurt you. Do you think I’m going to let him get away with that? No, we are going to take him apart a piece at a time,” Hot Spot growled.

“I love him.”

Hot Spot sputtered, “How can you say that? He hurts you!”

“Only if I ask him to,” First Aid muttered.

“Do you even hear what you are saying?” Hot Spot yelled, his voice rising in tenor.

“I’m sure he does, you scrap head. He’s sparked up,” Ratchet growled, glaring at them all.

“ **WHAT?** ” First Aid’s brothers yelled in unison.

“We heard you wrong,” Streetwise sputtered, looking to First Aid who looked completely miserable where he sat. “Right. There is no way in the pit that monster knocked up Aid. No way.”

“Fracking Con,” Blades said, anger making his voice rise.

“We’ll offline him,” Groove said, shrugging off his normally laid back facade. “We can’t let him get away with this.

“Don’t worry, Aid, we’ll make him sorry,” Streetwise added. 

“Oh, for Primus sake, NONE of you are doing anything,” Ratchet said, leveling a glare at all of them, his optics finally settling on First Aid, who seemed to curl up into a smaller ball with each threat. “You are upsetting Aid. It’s not good for a carrier to be emotionally upset, so just stop it. You aren’t going anywhere, much less near that rotary. Do you understand me?” he finished growling, making each of the bots flinch.

He vented softly, putting an arm around First Aid’s shoulders. “It will be fine. They are healthy, but you knew that, didn’t you?” 

First Aid made a little nod, hiding his face against Ratchet’s armour. “Yes.” He shook, “But I don’t understand why he left. He was so excited when I told him.”

“Megatron called them all back. It’s a mess, I know. I’m...having much the same issue myself. We will fix it though.” Ratchet forced himself to smile for First Aid’s sake.

“Wait a klik. They? You said they...” Hot Spot frowned at both of the medics, clearly not amused.

“It’s twins.” Ratchet said, barely managing not to roll his optics.

“What?” Hot Spot, Blades and Groove yelled, optics wide, while Streetwise blinked for one long moment before glitching. Hot Spot caught him, barely, before he slumped to the floor.

Hot Spot carefully lowered his brother to the ground, looking more put out by the moment. “I see. Twins. Right.”

Ratchet only sighed, it was going to be a long day cycle

OoOoOoOoOoOo

It took far too long to settle down the Protectobots and herd them out of the Medbay for Ratchet’s taste. The medbay was blissfully quiet for a moment. His own tank rolled in distress. He had hoped things would resolve themselves soon, but he was feeling less confident about it by the klik. He could not help but wonder if he was fooling himself. Maybe Soundwave had already forgotten about him. Maybe he never cared.

He was started from his reverie as the comm unit in the corner blared to life, revealing Vortex’s face on the other side. “Ratchet? I need you to check on First Aid. I’m serious. Where the frack are you. My bitlet could be offlined by those brothers of his. I know it. ”

Ratchet vented, the last bot he wanted to see in the world. He moved in front of it. “Doubtful, they wouldn’t hurt Aid like that. What do you want?”

“I want to make sure my bitlet is well,” the Rotary fairly growled.

Ratchet snorted, “You mean bitlets. They are fine.”

The silence on the other side of the comm dragged on for far longer than Ratchet would have expected, and really under normal circumstances the gobsmacked look on Vortex’s faceplates would have made Ratchet laugh. Clearly the crazy mech had been brought down by Aid, or at least halfway tamed into civility.

“W-w-what?” Vortex asked, his vocalizer spitting static.

Ratchet wondered how many time he had rebooted his audials in that uncomfortable silence. “First Aid is having twins,” Ratchet said more slowly, unable to keep himself from smiling back at the silly grin that inched onto the rotary’s faceplates.

“I love him,” he said impulsively. “You have to believe me, I really do.”

Ratchet snorted, “Tell me another, please.”

Vortex growled, “I do. I don’t care what you think about me. Just...just fracking keep him safe.” 

“I can promise I will do my best in that,” Ratchet said solemnly.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Things were not going as Ratchet had hoped. In fact they did not go at all. There was no new declaration of war, but Optimus stubbornly refused to go to Megatron and explain the situation, just as Megatron refused to simply forgive the slight. Ravage had snuck in, more than a few times to check his condition.

Unfortunately the medic knew it was not at Soundwave’s behest.

Like now. The youngling had nodded off at his side, optics dim. “He is sulking, you know.”

Ratchet had barely heard the whispered words. They made him flinch all the same. “Cold comfort, sprocket.” 

Ravage snorted at the endearment. “Lord Megatron will not listen when he is in this kind of snit.” 

“Snit. Your term or your ‘Boss’s’?” Under normal circumstances Ratchet would have laughed. In this instance he could not bring himself to.

“Mine,” Ravage said, his tone completely unrepentant. “You should tell Boss the truth. Nothing would keep him from you then. Not even Megatron.”

“I---somehow doubt that,” Ratchet said, a frown inching onto his faceplates.

“You underestimate yourself, and the Boss as well. He’d be like Vortex, sneaking off to see you. Sparklets need energy.”

Ratchet gave Ravage a sideways glance. “Well, that explains a few things.”

“Meh. The copter is crazy. But he’s also crazy for your apprentice. Not to mention sneaking out under Megatron’s olfactory sensor would amuse him to no end,” Ravage vented softly. “Maybe things will get fixed soon.”

“Primus, I hope so.”

OoOoOoOoOoOo

First Aid hummed. Ratchet could not ever remember seeing his apprentice quite that happy. He acted far more energetic than Ratchet felt. The sparkling was draining on his system, leaving him feeling lethargic. He knew Optimus was facing the same problem. The sparklings needed their sire’s energy, and Optimus at least would not hear of taking a donor's energy. Ratchet was not keen on it himself, but eventually he would if only for the sparklet’s health.

“You are sneaking out, aren’t you?” Ratchet asked, finally.

First Aid froze. “W-what would give you that idea?”

Ratchet snorted. “You are clearly not facing any energy lag. It’s obvious. Besides, a little cat told me so.”

“A little---oh---oh frack---” First Aid’s field flared out, full of chagrin and embarrassment. “Did he---um---”

“Was he watching you two? Beats me. You might want to be more discreet all the same. Your brothers still want his energon.” 

“They act like I’m a helpless youngling,” First Aid said, making a huffing noise. “I don’t know why they have such a problem with him. He loves me. I know he loves me.”

“Eh, well, They haven’t forgotten what he has done. What he did. Maybe you shouldn't---”

“That kind of attitude is exactly why the war has drawn out for so long. We’ve all done horrible things. If we aren’t willing to forgive...then it’s hopeless,” First Aid ducked his head, looking away. “I don’t want to live in that kind of world, Ratch.”

“None of us do, but it is the reality of the situation.”

“How can you even say that? You care about Soundwave. You can’t fool me. I saw how you were together,” First Aid said, his tone incredulous.

“He’s not here. He’s not coming back. And I...I don’t want to talk about it any longer.”

First Aid pulled a face behind his mask, “Fine. Vortex is comm’ing me anyway. I’ll...be back later I guess.”

“Be careful,” Ratchet said, knowing that he should stop him, but he could not bring himself to.

His own spark throbbed painfully in his chest, the sparklet pulsed against his spark, as sad as he was. This was not how he imagined things ending up. Far from it.

Ratchet watched the doorway long after First Aid had left and hoped that his apprentice knew what he was doing.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

::Ratchet. I need help now. He found us. Please hurry. Please.:: First Aid frantically comm’d Ratchet less than a joor after he had left.

::Calm down, where are you? Who found you?::

::Tha-that canyon Hound likes to visit. The one close to base, we’d been meeting there. Please hurry. Please. Megatron found us and he’s hurting ‘Tex.:: First Aid whimpered on the other side of the comm, panic overwhelming him as he pressed himself tightly against the rock wall. 

Miles away Ratchet dashed out of the infirmary, and towards Optimus’ office. “Prime. We have to go. First Aid is in trouble, and---and Megatron is---we just need to go now.”

Optimus looked up from the datapad he had been reading. He looked up at Ratchet, confusion pulsing through his field. “What?”

“I **NEED** your help,” Ratchet said, field pulsing out and full of impatience he could not even began to express verbally. “Now.” 

“Shouldn’t we---”

“We don’t have time for this, Optimus. Megatron is beating the slag out of Vortex. First Aid might be next,” Ratchet snapped already heading out the door.

Optimus hesitated for one moment before he followed him out the door, and away from the base. They both transformed as their peds hit the road, and sped towards the canyon.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

They heard them even before they reached the canyon floor. The sound of rending metal and a high-pitched scream rent the air. They both transformed, and ran towards the sound. Vortex’s rotary array was flung over their heads, barely missing Optimus. 

The Rotary’s screams rose in pitch, only cut off by the bellow that came from Megatron’s mouth as he finally spotted the two Autobots in the canyons entrance. “YOU. How dare you.” He yelled, running towards Optimus, fist raised. 

Optimus scrambled back, but not fast enough, the fist connected, snapping Optimus’s helm to snapped back. The momentum slamming him against the canyon wall.

Optimus slumped against the wall, still groaning as Ratchet ran to him, putting himself between Megatron and the Prime. “You glitch, are you out of your fragging processor. A blow like that could kill the sparkling,” Ratchet growled optics narrowing on Megatron’s faceplates.

Megatron froze. “What?”

“You heard me. If the sparkling is dead I’m going to personally slag you.” The medic turned his attention back to Optimus, plugging into a medical port on his side, and entirely ignoring the mech that stood behind them looking dumbfounded.

“Sparkling?” Megatron just stood there, unable to compute what Ratchet had even meant. “You are---you can’t be serious.”

“Completely, glitch-head. Had you answered any of Optimus’ comms you would have known that.” Ratchet vented softly, feeling relieved as Optimus’ optics finally booted back up, and focused on him.

“Ratchet?” the Prime asked, his mask snapping open. “What happened?” He looked past Ratchet and settled on Megatron. A hurt look inched over his faceplates. He flinched, arm curling protectively over his abdomen, right above the gestation chamber.

“He’s fine,” the medic huffed, removing his uplink. “Lucky thing.” He turned to glare at Megatron.

“Is it yours then?” Megatron demanded.

“Mine what?” Ratchet asked crossly, a scowl moving across his faceplates as he understood what Megatron was implying. “No. Pit no.” 

“Then whose?” Megatron growled, becoming angry all over again. “You didn’t waste long replacing me, Prime. Or was there someone else all along? Was that it?” 

“Primus, you are dense,” Ratchet said, getting up. “It’s yours.” His optics flickered to Optimus.

“Oh...” Megatron said, finally moving closer, and kneeling in front of Optimus. “I---what have I done?”

Ratchet shook his head, moving away from the pair and deeper into the canyon. Vortex was still sprawled where Megatron had left him. First Aid was already working on him, staving off the flow of energon from the Rotary’s ruined back.

Ratchet kneeled down beside him, “Not as bad as it could have been,” he said as he assessed the situation, and started working on the Rotary’s lower back. “Gonna be the pit to fix though. Let’s get him stable enough to move.” 

“Right,” First Aid agreed, “Want me to start a transfusion?” 

“Not yet. Lets finish getting him patched up first,” Ratchet nodded, putting his full concentration on the task at hand. Everything else, well that would come in time.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Ratchet leaned against the medbay wall, trying to get the courage up to comm Soundwave. He had hoped that the Hostmech would have comm’ed him, or even hurried over. Megatron and Optimus had been locked in the conference room for over a joor, but from the racket that could heard through the doors he doubted there were any peace talks going on.

First Aid and Vortex were curled up in one one of the medical berths, both exhausted. He didn’t blame them. It had been a long surgery to put Vortex back to rights. First Aid had been on edge the entire time, fretting while Ratchet had done most of the work.

It was a relief when the two finally fell offline, truthfully.

He was surprised when the comm screen in the medbay buzzed. More so when Soundwave’s visage appeared on the screen. Silence stretched out for a long moment as Ratchet tried to compose himself. “Soundwave...”

“Soundwave: Never intended to stay away so long.”

Ratchet snorted, “You could have just told me you wanted to call off the courtship. It’s fine, Soundwave. I understand. i really do.” Inside he shook. The thought of raising a sparkling alone was an overwhelming one.

Soundwave was silent, staring at Ratchet across the comm, searching for the words, “Soundwave: never intended to leave Ratchet. Does not want to end the courtship. Megatron: was not in any shape to keep order. Starscream: was being problematic, tetchier than usual.” 

“So you leave me without a word?” Ratchet frowned at him, he could not give a scrap about Starscream.

“Soundwave: is sorry. Will plead for vorns if he must.”

Ratchet’s frown deepened. “Get over here then. I have something to talk to you about anyway.” He ended the comm before Soundwave could even formulate a reply.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

The recordicons ran into the medbay, alerting Ratchet of their sire’s presence. Soundwave hovered in the doorway, looking uncertain once his mask slid away. “Ratchet: well?”

The medic opticed him, “All things considered, yeah I guess. Could be better. Would have been better had you not---”

Soundwave crossed the space between them, his field a mess of jitters and nerves as it touched Ratchet. The medic could not help but wonder at that. It was definitely not a side the Hostmech normally let the outside world glimpse. Normally the cool facade would have slid into place.

“We missed you,” Ratbat said, taking a perch on Ratchet’s shoulder, before nuzzling into his neck. “Carrier missed you.” The little bat hummed, “Carrier didn’t tell us we were getting a new sibling though.” He huffed, scrambling across Ratchet’s chassis, little claws hooking into spaces between armour until he was pressed against the space where Ratchet’s gestation tank rested, the spark inside fluttering about animatedly. Ratbat purred loudly, “Hello there, little brother.”

Ratchet opened his mouth up, then snapped it shut, he did not even know what to say. Instead his hand rested on Ratbat’s spinal plating. “He’s very happy to meet you.” Ratchet’s optic’s flicked up, catching the stunned look on Soundwave’s face.

The Hostmech moved closer, dropping to his knees he reached out a hand to touch Ratchet’s abdominal plating. “Ratchet: statement true?” His fingertips shook as he finally touched Ratchet.

“Oh, carrier.” Ratbat laughed, scuttling across Soundwave’s arm before launching himself into the air. “Of course it’s true.”

“I am carrying. It is yours,” he vented loudly, “And if you leave me like that again, Primus help you.”

Soundwave chuckled softly, pulling the medic close, “Soundwave: not suicidal.” He wrapped his arms around Ratchet’s waist, hugging the red and white mech to him.

Ratchet only hummed in answer, feeling content with Soundwave’s field enveloping his own. Maybe it would work out after all.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

The tiny little mechlet squirmed in Ratchet’s arms, tentacles reaching and finally wrapping around it’s carrier. Ratchet huffed softly, he had not really known what to expect, what kind of frame the nanites would build the little one. It was always a gamble when mixing frame-types. Still, he had been more than a little surprised that the little one had ended up a Hostmech. They were by far one of the rarer frame-types.

The little one clung, half to recharge already, and purring with contentment. Not surprising after the day he had spent in the creche with the other sparklings. Ratchet stroked Playback’s back, making the sparking purr louder. The tentacles finally loosened as the sparkling lost his fleeting battle with recharge.

“Ratchet: should be recharging as well.” Soundwave said, padding silently into the room. The bond between them eased open like a caress.

Ratchet let his helm fall back against the chairs back, his field full of amusement. “Perhaps I was waiting for you to come home.” 

The Host made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort, and bent down, untangling Ratchet from their offsprings grip. He picked Playback up, careful not to online him. “Ratchet: full of excuses.” 

Ratchet laughed softly. “Not excuses, it was a busy day, ask Ravage.”

Soundwave gave him a sideways glance, but did not comment otherwise as he carried Playback over to the sparkling berth, and tucked a cooling blankets around him. He always ran hot in his sleep, but it was a common enough problem with sparklings. Ratchet followed him into the room, watching from the doorway as Soundwave lifted the sides so Playback would not fall out if he onlined in the middle of the nightcycle. Once had been enough to nearly give them both a spark-attack, never mind that Playback had made it through no worse for the wear.

Ratchet offered his hand as Soundwave moved closer, their fingers winding together, and fields entwining. “It will be a few groons before the rest get back,” he pointed out, intent clear in his field as he pulled Soundwave towards their own berthroom.

Soundwave’s mask and visor snapped open as soon as they crossed the threshold. His tentacles wrapped around his mate as he pulled him close, nuzzling into Ratchet’s neckcording. Ratchet vented softly, tilting his head up and their lips finally came together. It was not exactly the life he had imagined, but he couldn’t help but embrace it.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/dellessa/media/Cats/291546_original.jpg.html)

**A/N:**

~Soundwave:[ http://www.seibertron.com/images/news/gfx/1270609198_WFCW1b.jpg](http://www.seibertron.com/images/news/gfx/1270609198_WFCW1b.jpg)

~Caste Melodias-Soundwave, Jazz, Blaster. It is the caste for entertainer, and singers. Closely tied to the Artisan and Artist castes.

~Ships in this verse:

Prowl/Starscream

Jazz/Skywarp

Ultra Magnus/Thundercracker

Inferno/Red Alert/Shockwave

Ratchet/Soundwave

Ironhide/Acid Storm

Blaster/Motormaster

Perceptor/Hook

Silverbolt/Onslaught

Which I may or may not write about later.

~So many thanks to Mific for their awesome artwork. =D


End file.
